


pining for you

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, just a study of hinata's feelings, wah it's super short i'm sorry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if kageyama is the ocean, hinata is a lost sailor at sea.<br/>he's been swallowed up by a gentle, tempestuous storm, and the worst thing is, he doesn't mind at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pining for you

**Author's Note:**

> a tiny little study of hinata's feelings for kageyama (≧∀≦)  
> i'm rlly rlly sorry about its small length! i've been quite busy, what with actual responsibilities, but managed to get this out : )
> 
> {lowercase intended + my tumblr is jetpackcrows}

the hands of the clock gently kiss the number zero, and hinata is still awake.  
it's not his fault, of course. none of it is. he's never been one for actually sleeping, obviously, and the fact that he's been compelled his entire life to stay up past the edge of dawn isn't exactly helpful.   
then again, the thoughts swimming and swirling and spiralling through his brain aren't in the least bit helpful, either. his mind used to be a kaleidoscope of fire, ivory, lustrous emeralds and greens and golds, all the colours of volleyball courts and unabashed euphoria; and all that he'd think about would be the sweet ache of his leg muscles straining from a high jump, or the euphonious cacophony of his hand spiking against the ball. he used to dream about the view on the other side, hallucinate the thousands of cheering onlookers applauding him endlessly, feel the distinctive feel of being slapped on the back by a fellow ecstatic team member.  
  
but nowadays, those thoughts aren't very much there anymore. well, they are, but they've sort of been chased and cornered to the very back, really; overridden and overwashed by a powerful, surging tidal wave of completely unwanted thoughts, thoughts he doesn't want to be thinking of at all.

because nowadays, hinata's mind is full of him. 

it's full of midnight-blue indigo, an ultramarine sea of colours blending into a pair of enrapturing azure eyes ringed with cobalt and copper-gold; and it's full of star-sprinkled pale skin, and long, languid fingers with flawless nails clutching at a milk box, and choppy, jaggedly-cut black locks draping over a beautiful goddamned face.   
  
yes, his mind is full of that low, roughly-edged voice threaded with the ever-so-subtle hint of obscure affection, and it's full of taut, toned arms stretching ever-so-lazily towards the sky to catch a volleyball, and it's full of those pink, ever-so-kissable lips which only ever turn upwards in a slight smirk very, very rarely.  
fuck, hinata's mind is full of him, full of none other than the guy he's supposed to hate the most, his teammate and rival and friend and foe- kageyama, kageyama tobio- and he really is doomed now, doomed to live a life lurking behind that hot damn shadow and wishing to kiss that hot damn neck.  
  
"why?" hinata groans, smothering his face in his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "why? why? why me?"  
  
funnily enough, hinata didn't even know he liked boys until kageyama showed up. he hadn't exactly been interested in anyone, frankly, and when his classmates used to point to magazines and ask which girl was his type, he'd just point to the one with the blackest hair or bluest eyes or biggest smile. it'd be the most obvious choice, of course, so he'd pick it, deciding that he'd just agree with the consensus of his class.  
now, though, if someone asked him good-heartedly about his type, the only image he'd be able to conjure up would be a tall, tall boy; a boy with sea-bright irises and raven-twined hair and, every once in a blue moon, a hasty but opaline smile. if someone asked him about his type, the only thing he'd be able to comprehend would be the name kageyama in his mind, the letters intertwining and tangling with each other in a beautiful mess.

he's head over heels for him. and he hates it.

"kageyama, kageyama, kageyama," he mutters into his pillow, tone laced with resentment and frustration and bitterness, and he makes a muffled noise, unable to breathe for a second. it's overwhelming, really, these feelings he's having every day and every night now; and he's a lost sailor at sea, swallowed up by a gentle, tempestuous storm, and the worst thing is, he doesn't mind at all. he doesn't want to be found; he doesn't want to be rescued. he just wants to wander deeper and deeper into the crashing tides of oblivion until he's been completely washed under, swept into the cold embrace of the violet-bright waves.

hinata dreams of him. he dreams of kageyama's sharp gaze, his embittered tone, his angry ways; and he dreams of the way how sometimes, his expression softens, his lips curve upwards, his voice becomes lilting-smooth and sonorous, speaking of sweet nothings and irrelevant tales. he dreams of the way how kageyama only ever can talk to him comfortably, can only ever offer him his mellifluous laugh and effulgent smile, can only ever look at him directly and say so much in the subsistence of iron-curtain saturninity.  
  
he wants him, he really does. he wants kageyama's presence, his sarcastic conduct and unmatchable personality and crooked smile and ever-raging eyes; and he also wants kageyama's hands knotted in his fiery hair, kageyama's legs tangled between his, kageyama's mouth moaning and gasping out his name and his name only. he wants to cuddle with kageyama, but he also wants to make kageyama feel good, and he wants to be there by his side when he's on top of the world and when he's down in the dumps. he wants to be there through kageyama's highs and lows, accompany him through his flats and sharps and crescendos and diminuendos, and help him through the whole musical arrangement of life. hinata wants to be kageyama's favourite piano piece, turbulent perfection, organised chaos, chords and melodies slotting together to form a symphony of wonder.

hinata wants to be with him, which is why sometimes, on nights like these, he goes completely and utterly insane with longing. but tonight's different; tonight, he can't deal with it anymore, the volcanoes erupting in his mind and butterfly wings pounding against his stomach and incessant goddamn ringing in his ears. he throws the pillow in a frenzy, biting down on his lip so hard that it seeps sunset-crimson, and with a bleeding mouth and a bleeding heart, he grabs his phone.

when kageyama picks up, hinata loses it. he sobs and sobs and sobs, garroted wails and ugly screams bursting from his throat like fireworks, and he hears kageyama's breath halting in a stabbing, salient pause. "fuck," he says, and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know why his best friend is crying so brokenly like this, "fuck, hinata, what's wrong?"  
"you dumbass," hinata chokes in response, and then it all comes out in a blur of words, a messy moras of unfinished sentences and unwelcome thoughts.   
"kageyama, i'm in love with you." he whispers, and after that he's calmed down, as quickly as he started, a tempest as moody as japanese periwinkle skies and the moon's phases. and kageyama, kageyama, he forgets how to breathe.

he disconnects the phone. the hands of the clock gently kiss the number zero, and hinata is still awake. he doesn't know what to do.

but after a few moments of uncertainty and desolation and despair, there's a knock on the door, and when he opens it, there's a tall, tall boy standing outside; a boy with sea-bright irises and raven-twined hair and a hasty but opaline smile.  
  
and he kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave a comment if u want bc i rlly need feedback! :)) thank you!!


End file.
